Reflections
by maggiesbell
Summary: Based on a Tumblr prompt I got: OA gets shot, and Maggie blames herself.
1. Chapter 1

_Tick, tock. Tick, tock._

Despite the disarray surrounding her, that was all she could hear. The sound drilled into her skull, making it hard not to think about just how precious time really was. Somehow, your whole world could come crashing down, changing everything you knew in the blink of an eye.

It's easy to think about the what ifs, about what she should have done — about what she shouldn't have done — and right now, she would have given everything just to go back to this morning and change everything.

She couldn't have this happen again. She couldn't lose another person. Not yet.

Maggie ran her thumb across her knuckles in an effort to comfort herself. However, upon feeling the sticky substance covering her hands, she felt bile rise up in the back of her throat. She placed her palm against the white wall, coloring it red whilst she tried to keep herself from emptying the contents of her stomach all across the hospital floor.

"Agent Bell, do you hear me?" Someone placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. "Are you hurt?"

Her team would come storming through the hospital soon, but right now, she was only surrounded by kind strangers trying to do their job.

She can only bring herself to shake her head. She had seen the damage the bullets had caused. The first one had gone through his left shoulder, causing him to scream in agony. The next one had silenced her when it tore into his left lung. By the time she had been able to shoot their assailant, OA had sagged down to the floor, gasping for breath and surrounded by his own blood.

Dialing for help, practically shouting at the poor operator as she watched her best friend's breaths become more and more shallow, had been among the hardest things she had ever done.

OA stayed calm throughout it all. He just watched her. At one point, he interrupted her stream of_ just stay awake_s and tried to say something, only to cough and then wince at the pain. _You can tell me later_, she told him. Because he was going to be okay.

She blinked, pulling herself back to reality. "I'm fine," she said, surprising herself with how steady her voice was.

"Agent Zidan is in good hands," the nurse said softly.

"I know." The doctors would do everything they could to save him, and he was a fighter. She just hoped that was enough.

"Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

She nodded again. The team didn't need to see her drenched in blood when they arrived, and she couldn't stand the sticky feeling any longer.

The nurse — Emily— lead her into a small, dimly lit room with a sink. The water felt cold against her trembling hands, and she watched as the red disappeared down the drain. At some point, she left the room. Maggie didn't realize until she returned with a sweater.

"Thanks," she forced a smile, and with a nod, Emily left her alone again to change.

It's not until then she truly let herself break, alone and sheltered from the rest of the world. The crushing weight on her chest left her heaving for air, and she grabbed the edges of the sink, depending on it to keep herself standing. She shouldn't have said yes to entering the building, she should've told him to wait for backup; especially when they weren't in vests.

The team should've arrived by now, and whilst she longed not to be alone, she couldn't face them right now. Rationally, she knew the team wouldn't blame her, but that didn't really matter when she blamed herself.

She spent the following minutes trying to compose herself, wondering why humans were ever equipped with a feeling as horrible as guilt. _Breathe in. Breathe out_. Despite every breath hurting as much as the last one, she managed to get her physical reaction somewhat under control.

_Now or never_, she thought.

Her hand hovered above the handle for what seemed like an eon. She knew she had to face reality at some point, but as long as she was here, she was safe. Nobody would give her the speech about how they did everything they did but were unable to save her partner. As long as she stayed here, she could still hope. So, she let herself rest her head against the door instead._ Just a few more minutes_, she promised herself. She just needed a little more time.

She stayed like that until someone carefully knocked on the door. "Maggie?"

_Dana_. The thought barely registered before she entered.

"One of the nurses told me I might find you here," she said softly.

Oh. "Yeah, I needed to change."

A part of her wanted to ask her why she'd come to find her, because she'd already run through dozens of scenarios, each making her more nervous than the last, but she still didn't know if she wanted the answer. Nevertheless, she knew Dana would tell her anyway.

"A doctor came to see us," she said, making her heart drop. "They said he was lucky."

She blinked, unsure if she'd heard correctly over the sound of her beating heart. "They did?"

"He'll be in surgery for a while longer, but it looks like he'll be just fine." Dana offered her a smile. "Just thought you'd want to know."

She let out a shaky breath. "Thank you."

The words aren't enough to truly convey the depths of the emotions rushing through her. _He's gonna be okay_. It's not until then, with the guilt and pain loosening its grip on her heart, that she realized just how tired she is.

"Do you want to join us outside?"

"Yeah." No real reason to stay here anymore.

With that, they made their way back to the waiting area, the only thought lingering in her mind being that everything would be okay.

**A/N: Thanks to Claire for betaing this part 3**


	2. Chapter 2

He regarded her as she worked, taking note of the tiredness evident in her incapability of keeping her eyes open. She was staying late. Again. Although unsurprising, it worried him.

Accompanied by a cup of coffee, she sluggishly swirled her pen across one of the files occupying her desk. Recently, she had volunteered to take on extra paperwork. As popular as it made her, he couldn't stop feeling there was more to it than good-will.

In the beginning, when it had only been his paperwork, he'd jotted it down to some leftover worry from when he'd been shot. Maybe it was just her way of showing that she cared.

Then it had become extensive.

After he stopped letting her, he'd notice some of their colleagues dropping off an extra file or two at her desk. He didn't know how she managed to balance it with sleep, but judging by her constant yawning, he guessed she wasn't. Dana must've noticed too, because it had been a couple of days since she'd last been in the field.

Something was bothering her. Aside from the whole lack of sleep issue, she was raising walls. She'd brush off his attempts at personal conversations and didn't reciprocate when he poked fun at her. Even when he did get a smile out of her, it would quickly falter.

Deciding against heading for home, he walked over to her desk. Once it became apparent she wouldn't acknowledge him on her own, too engrossed in her work (or just too tired to notice), he cleared his throat.

"Do you need anything?" she asked, still focused on her file.

"I was hoping we could talk."

"About?"

"You."

That made her look up. "Me?"

He nodded. "What's going on?"

"I'm not sure I'm following."

"You're…different.

That sounded awfully generic, but he felt '_you look exhausted, you're avoiding me, and Dana placed you on desk duty_' would be too direct. He didn't want to make her defensive.

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm the same as always."

"You expect me to believe you've always loved paperwork?"

"Everyone likes feeling needed," she said with a shrug.

At least her lack of sleep wasn't impairing her ability to dodge questions.

"Now you're just being stubborn."

"Maybe."

Some part of him wondered if she truly believed she was alright, or if she had just taken the decision to ignore her own words about how they were supposed to be honest with each other.

"Come on, Maggie," he said. "You can't deny you've gotten more serious lately." That was one way of putting it.

"Maybe you're just not as funny as you think."

There was a playful tinge to her voice, and if only just to prove a point, it felt a bit more like her.

"No, that's not it. I'm hilarious."

She rolled her eyes before shaking her head in that _I can't believe I'm stuck with you_ way of hers. Had he not known where this conversation was heading, he would've smiled.

"You've been acting this way every since I got shot."

Although she was quick to mask it, he noticed how her face fell. Coupled with the heavy silence that followed, it confirmed his suspicions. She must've realized he knew, because suddenly she found great interest in her file again, finding a convenient way to avoid his gaze.

"You know I'm fine, Maggie," he said softly, because aside from some soreness and being on desk duty for another week, he was.

"You almost weren't."

"Emphasis on _almost_. I got lucky."

"And if you hadn't been?"

Situations like these, those that reminded them of how close to death the job brought them, were among the harder things their work entailed.

"But I was," he repeated. "You'll destroy yourself thinking about _what ifs_."

It was a dangerous path, linked closely to guilt and fear. It was amazing how much power those two emotions harboured. They had the ability to make even breathing painful once they festered in you. He didn't wish that upon anyone, least of all her.

"It was my call." She looked back up at him, revealing the glistening in her eyes. "It was _my _call, OA," she repeated, and he was unsure whether or not he imagined the small quiver to her voice.

"You made the right one." Who knows how badly things could have gone if she hadn't. "I didn't exactly give you a choice, either."

She didn't look convinced.

"You made the right call, Maggie," he assured her. "And none of what happened was your fault. Nobody blames you." Aside from her, that was.

"Okay."

She still didn't seem completely convinced, but he'd take it. No matter what he said, he knew it would take her some more time to fully process her feelings. Guilt didn't disappear overnight. However, this was a beginning.

Then she yawned, and he tilted his head.

"How have you been sleeping lately?"

"You know, I'm the one supposed to be worrying about you."

"I think you do enough of that already," he said. "You didn't answer my question."

She sighed. "Why do you think I'm doing everyone's paperwork?"

So she was avoiding sleep. "Nightmares?"

"It's fine, really," she said. "I just…prefer to stay awake. Might as well do something productive with my time, right?" She looked down on the file in front of her. "I know it's not a good combo with our jobs," she continued, "so I asked Dana to put me on desk duty with you until I get a handle on it."

Always the responsible one.

"And here I thought you just missed me."

"You wish," she scoffed. Then she adjusted her posture. "You don't—" she paused, hesitating for a moment before continuing. "You don't think any less of me as an agent, right?"

"Of course not." If anything, he respected her more for her responsibility. "Nobody I'd rather have as my partner."

"Good, because you're stuck with me."

He smiled fondly. "Lucky me."

A pool of warmth settled in his chest once she returned his smile. He hadn't seen one of those in awhile.

Then she yawned, again. "I should probably get going, huh?"

"Yeah, it's getting late," and she needed the rest. "You can do the rest tomorrow."

"Can't wait," she threw a look across her desk, the realization of how much work she had to do finally sinking in. "I'm gonna need a vacation day to finish all of this."

He chuckled, even if he pitied her. "At least you can sleep in tomorrow."

"I guess."

"Want me to take some?"

"I'll be fine, but thanks," she said, gathering up her files. "For everything," she added more quietly.

"Of course."

He was her partner, after all. More so, she'd quickly become an important part of his life. He cared for her happiness. The least he could do, was check up on her.

"Goodnight, OA."

He smiled. "Goodnight."


End file.
